


The Sarcophagus

by Thornfin



Category: Doom (Video Games)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, B.J. Blazkowicz III - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Demonic Possession, Doom, Doom Eternal, Doom Eternal Spoilers, Earth, F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flynn Blazkowicz, Flynn Taggart, Gore, Heaven & Hell, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost Lover, Mars, Memory Loss, Past, Past Lives, Past Torture, Religion, Romance, Spiritual, Stan Blazkowicz - Freeform, Strong Female Characters, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thornfin/pseuds/Thornfin
Summary: Though Flynn Taggart had made a name for himself as The Slayer, though he is powerful beyond all human reasoning, the power and rage that runs through his veins has always been a mystery. But when he suddenly finds and remembers a long-lost figure from his distant past, they are both awakened to parts of that past long forgotten; parts that pertain directly to the source of Flynn's demon-destroying power.Flynn is now faced with a holy call and the harsh reality that there is more to the fight for humanity's redemption than he could have ever imagined.
Relationships: Doom Slayer | Doomguy/Original Character(s), Doom Slayer | Doomguy/Other(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	1. Retrieval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infamous Slayer finds his mission to end yet another hellish apocalypse redirected by VEGA, leading him to something the artificial intelligence claims posses the same power that was given to the Slayer long ago.  
> (Knowledge of Doom 2016 + Doom Eternal is Recommended)

**ATTENTION, THE SLAYER HAS ARRIVED.**

**ALL MORTALLY CHALLENGED PERSONNEL PLEASE BE ADVISED.**

**ALL UAC PERSONNEL PLEASE FOLLOW LOCK-DOWN PROCEDURES.**

**REPEAT: THE SLAYER HAS ARRIVED.**

**ALL MORTALLY CHALLENGED PERSONNEL PLEASE BE ADVISED.**

**ALL UAC PERSONNEL PLEASE FOLLOW LOCK-DOWN PROCEDURES.**

"Why are we still here, Vega..?"

Flynn growled as he tossed an imp's corpse - freshly severed in half from the mouth. Blood spat and sputtered from its exposed entrails, sprinkling his suit, and he wiped a few drops of blood away from his helmet's visor.  
  


"I am detecting something... unusual," Vega replied.  
  


Flynn raised a brow. "As in..?"  
  


No reply.  
  


The Slayer promptly rolled his eyes at the fact that Vega hadn't said anything else. It wasn't like him to be this vague - let alone distracted.  
A loud _WABOOM!_ came from behind him and, with it, the sound of wheezing and otherworldly shrieks. Flynn took a glance over his shoulder to feast his eyes on the hoard of imps that clawed and reached for him through the jammed, heavy-duty door.

 _  
"Oh, what the hell. If he won't tell me why we haven't left yet then I'll see myself out."_  
  
Turning on his heel, Flynn walked toward the hoard, both amused and annoyed at the barbaric struggle of the demons trying to shove eachother out of the way - to be the first to climb through and kill the Slayer. He chuckled softly, shaking his head before his massive hand forced itself through the jagged opening of the door.

Grabbing an imp in the next room by the face, he pulled. The skin of the imp's neck tore, its blood splattering all over the other imps as it let out an agonized screech. He gave little chance for the others to wipe the blood from their eyes before he tossed the now-severed head to the side and forced the door wide open. He cocked his shotgun. With reckless abandon, another one of the Slayer's brutal dances began. Forcing them to eat their own entrails just as they had devoured his fellow man; digging into their skin to extract their bones and stab them in places where it would hurt before it would kill. From heads to kneecaps - he'd shoot them all. He'd kill them all.  
  
The way blood and viscera sprayed all over the surrounding walls could have been something akin to abstract art had it not all been for the sake of war. Dying cries, angry growls, pained howls; chiming bullet shells hitting the floor, the blast of a gun, the loud _boom_ that came from a fatal stomp on a demons head.   
A dance to a symphony of death.

Vega's voice came as a brief interlude.  
"I've scanned the surrounding facility and my sensors indicate that this unusual - yet powerful - force is not too far from here; only 350.24 meters."

"Can you tell me what it is, at the very least?" Flynn asked, almost desperate as he twisted and turned his body to avoid the jabs of a possessed security guard, its shield having yet to be destroyed.  
  


"I cannot say with complete certainty."  
  


_"Agh, not this crap again..."_

Flynn kicked at the shield firmly, sending the demon back a ways as it slipped on the blood of its brethren spilled all over the floor.

He reached for the plasma rifle.

"However, I am able to deduce one thing."

The crunch of broken bones, satisfyingly crisp, and a final groan filled the air as the last of the hoard fell on its back - its jaw completely mangled and neck snapped from a glory kill.

"And what might that one thing be?" Flynn asked with a breathy voice, irritated and tired. He began to gather whatever ammunition he could, taking his leave.

"This force is, in fact, a life-force. One quite similar to yours, in fact."  
  


The Slayer froze for a moment upon hearing this.  
  
 _"Similar to mine? Marauder..?"_

"I promise, Slayer, it is not my intention to side-track you. I will escort you to Doctor Hayden to locate the final Hell Priest as soon as possible. I simply hypothesize that, perhaps, this life-force could be of great use to you if you wish to hasten the mission."  
  


Flynn didn't budge as he thought about Vega's proposition. He was curious.  
"Well... I'll take a look. I'll see whatever it's got and take it if I need it - but then we need to go. Time's short."  
  


"Understood."

Cocking his super shot-gun, Flynn took to jogging down corridor after corridor to find wherever this 'life-force' was hiding. Corpses of UAC scientists - cult loyalists - and security guards made a mess on the floor and every corner reeked more of iron than the last. Many had allowed themselves to become the very demons he had just killed. Few still remained alive, now finding themselves going into lock-down to flee from the man they believed was the enemy. For years UAC higher-ups assured their followers that the Slayer was a mere myth the 'non-believers' made up to deceive and lead people astray from the promise of salvation. Hearing of the Slayer's arrival, then, filled survivors with doubt, fear, and a tinge of indignation that made them almost wish they could take him on as they fled to their lock-down stations.  
  
As far as Flynn was concerned, stupid as they were to pledge their allegiance to hell, they'd eventually see they were wrong...

 _"One way or another,"_ he'd think to himself. " _O_ _ne way or another..."_

Finally, Flynn reached a door with its signature red pattern upon it indicating that it was still locked.  
"Vega?"

Within moments the door slid open, and Flynn walked in cautiously - his gun at the ready. The room, like many, took up enough space for at least a good 2 dozen people to run around and conduct any experiments of any size. Any experiments the higher-ups urged them to. Colourful tubes and high tech decorated the walls and counters, complimenting the view of the perpetual night that was space through a massive window.

Flynn made his way through the room, quickly yet cautiously in search of whatever it was that Vega attempted to lead him to.

"There is a pod in a smaller, adjacent room. It is currently sealed, but I will bypass security to allow you access to open it. Whatever the life-force is, it is currently in there."  
  


A look to the right and there Flynn spotted another door. It was smaller this time, but looked almost twice as guarded as the one previous.  
  
 **AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY** showed up in big, bright red letters as the Slayer approached and put his hand on the identification scanner.  
As promised, Vega by-passed the security protocol. Flynn stood at the ready as the door opened slowly, revealing exactly what Vega said there would be: a pod, surrounded by screens absolutely riddled with code atop a small flight of stairs. It was front and centre - hidden - so whatever was in it was of great importance to the UAC's research.  
  
 _"All the more reason to take it from them, I guess."_

The pod looked like nothing particularily special, though. It could have easily been mistaken for an explosive tank otherwise if it weren't for the small, intricate patterns laced along its edges that were barely visible until Flynn actually took a step closer to it. They looked familiar. But, then again, what didn't considering all the hellish symbols he'd come across on a regular basis? Still, he made a mental note. 

Flynn was ready to open the pod with haste and to snatch whatever was in there. Vega managed to bypass the complex system before a holographic screen came in Flynn's view so he could request the pod to open. He did so swiftly.

Suddenly, an blinding golden glow pierced through the smallest crack of the pod's lid as it opened. Even his helmet's visor wasn't enough to protect his eyes. Flynn winced and turned away for a moment, shot-gun at the ready just in case. When the light grew dim he approached the pod once more, prepared and eager to grab this 'life-force' (kill it, if he had to) and get a move on.   
Time was short, but he found himself nearly frozen solid when his eyes came into focus and he saw what was inside: a woman wrapped from her breasts to her hips in rags. It wasn't her sex that got his attention, though. Unfortunately, the UAC was known for its human experiments with Argent energy. It was the aura that surrounded her... and her appearance.   
  


"What the..."

Flynn furrowed his brows.  
  


She most certainly would have looked like someone of afro-latin origin: darker skin, thick lips, slim yet curvacious form. It was the horns, though - the curved pair of horns that snaked around her temples like a crown that was a bit too tight for the incredibly thick curls that reached all the way down to her back. Not only that, but her skin had an unusual complexion as, from the right side of her body to the left, it went from heavily scarred and crimson to perfectly smooth and tanned.  
These were clearly demonic attributes and Flynn considered getting rid of her and moving on.   
  
_"For all I know they're probably trying to replicate Marauders so the possessed cultists can be sentient."_ Yet, for some reason, that assumption wasn't very convincing.

Thin, IV-like tubes and needles were pressed into her flesh, her wrists and legs restrained tightly. She had bruises all over: bruises that showed a sign of a struggle.   
Whoever she was, she didn't want to be there - but she didn't seem to put up as much of a fight as a raw demon or a possessed would put up. No corpses - no blood anywhere. The room was spick and span.   
  


Confused but in desperate need to leave, Flynn began relieving the unconscious woman of the restraints and tubes that, he assumed, had kept her tranquilized.  
  


"What am I looking at, Vega?" He asked.  
  


"I am going through the UAC's database to find out now. One moment."  
  


Flynn removed the last restraint from the woman, and he paused for a moment, instinctively grabbing at his shotgun as she took a deep breath from the depths of her sleep. The light from before returned for a moment as she inhaled, making Flynn wince and look away again. Upon exhaling the light disappeared once more, and when Flynn looked back he caught only a glimpse of it seemingly making its way into her body. His confusion grew but he refused to remain in a daze. He kept a close eye on her as he waited for Vega. 

"I've retrieved the information and have made an analysis on it - on her - ready for you to consider."  
  


Flynn grunted. "I'm not able to analyze it now. Tell me when we get back - we can't stay here."  
  


"Understood."  
  


"This may seem like a stupid question considering no one's dead or had been bleeding in here but is she hostile?" Flynn asked. He couldn't take his chances.  
  


"Reports say that she is. If this is true she is far too tranquilized to be a source of immediate danger. A decision can be made regarding her life upon returning to the fortress."

 _"Fantastic..."_ Flynn picked the woman up, hoisting her over his shoulder so she couldn't do much in the event that she woke up.

With that, he turned to get a move on but not until he took one more glance at the pod to make any necessary mental notes. Sure, Vega gathered what he could but he couldn't get answers if he didn't have _some_ questions. Then, something within the pod caught his eye. The woman must have been laying on top of it otherwise he would have seen it before.  
It looked very much like the symbol upon his helmet - the symbol of the Doom Slayer, but it wasn't exactly the same. It was engraved in the area where her head lay and looked like something very few ARC personnel had hanging from their necks: a cross.

Flynn's eyes narrowed a bit as he stared, taking a mental note. Suddenly, an alarm went off.   
  


**ATTENTION ALL UAC PERSONNEL: PLEASE EVACUATE VIA THE EMERGENCY ESCAPE PODS IMMEDIATELY.**

**THE SLAYER HAS TAKEN THE-** _[CRASH!!]_ **. ALL SYSTEMS HAVE BEEN SET TO SELF DESTRUCT IN 5 MINUTES.  
  
**

The crash that indicated the ship was about to cave in on itself blocked out whatever the security protocol had said.  
  
  
Regardless, "they didn't want me getting to her... 'Means she will be useful afterall. Good call, Vega." Instincts kicking in, Flynn secured the girl on his shoulder with one arm and took to the halls of the facility.  
  


Before he could so much as blink, though, he found himself collapsing on one knee, memories flashing before him.  
Blurry, chaotic and swarmed with Satanic symbolism, he could barely make out any of the images. The constant booming and crashing that surrounded didn't make it any easier to compose himself either, and he stumbled as the floor beneath him shook.  
  


"Agh! Vega..."

"I am aware. Commencing psychiatric shock."  
Flynn's body tensed up as he waited for Vega to get his body to relax.  
  


One shock. Flynn flinched. The flashbacks began to cease but his body had yet to respond. He didn't realize that his hand gripped tightly at the girl still hoisted on his shoulder, nor that his gauntlet threatened to tear through the rags on her body and break skin on the other side.  
  


Two shocks. Flynn found himself regaining enough strength and composure to begin to get up, see what was around him, to regain his balance, but he began to hear voices.  
  


_"Kar En Tuk, Great Slayer!"_

  
_"Is anyone left?!"_

  
_"Your name is Flynn?"_

_  
__"They're killing everyone!"_

  
_"Taggart! That's an order!"_

  
_"Flynn?!"_

  
_"You'll make a fine addition to the front lines, stranger..."  
  
_

_"He's an outsider..."_

  
_"F-Flynn! Flynn, where are you?!"  
  
_

Three shocks. The third shock was always the strongest, and it was at this that Flynn's hand tensed up fully. The gauntlet broke the girl's skin and her blood leaked through the fabric of the rags on her body. The moment it made contact with his armour, somehow, one voice in his head became loud and clear.

_"Flynn! They're coming... W-What do we do?!"_

"Opening the portal now," Vega said, with Flynn only barely able to hear. The facility began to crumble around him, slowly becoming nothing but fragments of soon-to-be space junk. His vision was slightly blurry but he regained his balance, dashing toward the blue aura that would return him to his fortress.

The voice continued as he went.  
  


_"No, no! Please don't put me in there! I don't want to go without you! They'll kill you! Flynn?! Flynn!"  
  
_

The Slayer entered the portal, but before things could go black for a moment, he heard one last thing - and it sent a sharp chill up his spine.  
  


_"FLY!!"_

Then it all went black.


	2. Analyze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awakened after an undisclosed amount of time, the woman is brought back to the fortress of Doom. What is revealed about her identity begins an unprecedented change in motion for the Slayer.

"Taggart! That's an order!"

Flynn's nose crinkled in anger as he tossed his weapon to the side, staring daggers toward his commanding officer as he did so.

"I'm not killing innocent noncombatants because all your cowardly ass can do is throw a hissy fit for not getting his way. Negotiate with them and maybe I'll shoot if things get ugly."

The commander's eyes were bloodshot with rage. "You pick up that damn weapon right now and put these animals in their place or you'll get a demotion that'll send you to the 9th circle of Hell!"

How foreshadowing that statement was - a prophecy in its own right. 

Flynn turned his back on the battlefield, the weapon, and his comrades, all anxiously watching from the bushes they hid in as their captain talked back to his superior.  
Crossing his arms, Flynn spat casually at the officer's spotless boot.

Seething, the commander took a step closer to Flynn, the way his fingers tensed up letting him know he was in for a good throat grab. Flynn clenched his fist.

"Why, you little shi-!"

One solid punch to the jaw was all it took. Blood spewed from the older man's mouth as a couple of his teeth came out of their place, shooting out like bullets. He fell hard on his side, eliciting the gasp of the two escorts that had approached Flynn with him. Suddenly their guns their were pointed to Flynn's chest, and the man put his hands up with a nonchalant look on his face as his superior's blood cascaded from his right hand down to his arm. Two other officers rushed to the commander's side, nudging him and urging him to get up.

Eventually they heard spitting and sputtering, and blood squirted from the man's mouth as he took a deep breath and yelled with a lisp, "Mars! I want his ass sent to Mars, now!" With that, he passed out.

The two officers, prepared to blast their subordinate's chest wide open, looked at one another before gesturing for Flynn to get a move on back to the base. Escorted away from the field, guns pressing hard against his back, he sighed through his nostrils - triumphantly though pensively.  
  
A one way ticket to Mars really was a one way ticket to Hell - not because of the job position, though; he couldn't care less about being demoted to security. What bothered him was the concept of people dealing with things way out of humanity's league - and their solar system was now riddled with people who thought they could do just that. The commander's hubris was bad enough.

But he knew what he signed up for. Or at least he thought he did, at the time.

_"You never thought it'd get you here, huh Taggart?"_ He thought to himself. He slipped his hands in the pockets of his sweats as he stared at his praetor suit, its dents and stains being buffed and cleaned off in preparation for his next little expedition. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and the fabric of the old t-shirt on his back threatening to tear if he so much as flexed. He didn't remember much, but that was something he most certainly did; it still held true to his convictions. To him, it didn't matter; enemy civilians or not they were human.  
  
...UAC cult-loyalists or not, they were human.  
  
He wouldn't - he quite literally _couldn't_ (though he never understood why) _-_ lay a hand on another human unless he had to. He rarely ever had to and he preferred it that way; enough blood had been shed.  
  
Taking a quick glance out the window, the pentagram engraved on the surface of the earth brought a grimaced look to his face.

"'It is humanity's chance to give penance. You cannot save them from their judgement'," he mocked under his breath. "My ass..."

"Slayer," Vega beckoned.

"Hm?"

"She has woken up."  
  


Flynn remained silent for a moment, continuing to stare at the work being done on his suit.   
He sighed. "I guess now's the time to get that analysis... But before you tell me anything else, answer me this: is she hostile?"  
  


"While reports say that she is, they seem to be out of context or, at the very least, heavily biased."  
  


"Figures..." Flynn stepped back, turning on his heel to make his way to another end of his room to tend to his weapons.  
  


"Any hostility she has shown has been a direct result of great trauma - some of which were inflicted by the UAC."  
  


_"Some?"  
  
_

"Otherwise, she is quite the opposite. Though she is deeply shaken, I have managed to successfully bring her to somewhat of a state of calm, and she has fully consented to a full physical."  
  


Flynn took to cleaning his assault rifle of some heavy blood stains, the subtle nods of his head the only indication that he was listening. "Why was she in the pod?"  
  


"Reports say she was simply found in there. However, given the nature of the report about her supposed hostility I cannot immediately trust whatever has been recorded. It will be best to hear her testimony and put all the pieces together."  
  


The Slayer rolled his eyes.  
"So now we're caught in a mess of more and more mind games?" He sighed again.   
"Well, we've gotten this far already, I guess. But she's gotta have _something_ straight forward about 'er... Like a name. She give you a name?"

At this Vega remained silent, as if the answer was caught in his nonexistent throat.   
It was enough to make Flynn stop his work and stare intently at the wall, as if to look at Vega with a mix of confusion and slight concern.   
  


The sound of a generator slowly losing power mimicked that of a human taking a nervous breath.   
"It's an unexpected name, to be sure," Vega stated.  
  
And then he told him.

* * *

  
A strained gasp escaped her lips as she flinched and she sat up quicker than her spine cared for. Pain surged through her body that had remained docile for who-knows-how-long, prompting her eyes to shut tightly. Body tensing up, her fists clenched and she jumped at the new sensation she felt between her fingers: soft, almost silky. Cool but much more comfortable and malleable than steel.   
  
  
The same softness, and a warmth quite unfamiliar to her, encased her legs and made its way up to her waist the more she came to. She allowed her eyes to open slowly, anxious to find out where fate could have possibly brought her now.  
  


Looking around she saw there was close to nothing except for a couple of candles on a side table nearby, the glow of beautiful blue flames the only source of feasible light.  
It was completely silent - peaceful and still. A wave of relief washed over her that brought her to tears, and her hands trembled as she pulled the blanket up and held it close to her face. In her embrace she could feel her arm being tugged a little, and looking over she fixed her eyes on an IV trailing back to a small contraption connected to the wall. A shaky sigh escaped her lips.  
  


 _"Another hallucination..."_ She thought, her moment of hope blundered.  
  
  


Closing her eyes, more gently this time, her tears came down her cheeks like a gentle stream.   
  
A knot built up in her throat and she swallowed hard as she opened her eyes again, staring blankly at her torso covered from breast to hips in dainty rags. From there she saw her hands as they gripped the blanket; her right hand with its red, scarred complexion contrasting that of her left hand. She reached up toward one of her temples, stroking the horns that protruded out of her forehead. All were reminders of what she expected to wake up to once again: more suffering, more pain - more fighting for her life. Small whimpers escaped her lips as the undying urge to scream kicked at the knot in her throat. She wished that this peace - being in this room - could last for more than a few short minutes, for it was cut short far too many times before.  
  
  


Slowly, her body heavy, she laid down on her side - careful not to rip out the IV. She absolutely did not want a repeat of what happened every other time she'd do that; electric shocks jolted up her spine to put her in her place, more IVs and anesthetics that would knock her out and trap her consciousness in a prison of nightmares; "psycho-physiological positive-punishment" is what she overheard them call it. It was simply endless.  
Laying in a fetal position she grasped at the blanket again her tears crossed the bridge of her nose, staining the pillow she laid her head on and dampening the curls that got in her face.  
  


 _"If this is another hallucination, though,"_ she thought to herself... To Him. " _I can rest, at least for a little bit, right?"_

Taking a few deep breaths, she parted her lips.  
"I-If you're listening, please hear me..." She began, a prayer rising up from within her. "Please let me rest for just a little longer. I...I need strength."  
  
  


Suddenly the room began to light up slowly but surely. Her pupils contracted and a rush surged through her body.  
  
  


 _"No! I'm waking up!"_   
She didn't hesitate as she sat up in her seat once again and braced herself, ready to see where she _really_ was so she could make her escape.

It was at this that Vega spoke.

"Hello, miss."

The woman nearly jumped out of her skin, frantic as sharp, panicked breaths pierced her lungs. Her fists clenched once again, gripping the blanket so as to rip it off, get up, and fight.

Vega's program spoke more gently.  
"Please do not try to rush out of your bed. You have been trapped in a state of hyper-sleep. Your body will be unstable and unable to handle rapid movement. Allow me to-"

"No - I won't allow you to do _anything_!" She hissed, and she stumbled out of bed. Almost immediately her legs gave out and she fell to the floor, tears threatening to leave her eyes in a heated rage. "And that's a lie! I have not been asleep! I haven't slept in _months_!"

She could barely say what she wanted to say next without trembling, but she kept her composure.  
"I've been dissected - ripped apart, put back together and then taken apart all over again!" She paused for a moment, trying to catch her breath.  
  
"I-I've been passed on from one scientist to another for the last six- seven months? Years?! I-I don't know, but don't think for a second I'm falling for this crap! I told you all: I am not a demon!" She screamed, hot tears pouring from her eyes, her fist slamming hard onto the floor. "I'm not a **demon**!"  
  


She hit the floor a second time and it was then that she made a rather significant dent in it.   
The sound was bold enough to echo through the fortress, and the atmosphere fell completely silent for a moment. She sat up as best as she could, her head hanging and thick hair covering her face. Sniffling, hiccuping and trembling as she wrapped her arms around herself, she could barely hear the door behind her open.  
  
  


"I assure you, miss..." A levitating contraption came in through the door and, with it, another blanket that Vega had gently wrapped around her. "You are safe. You are no longer within the UAC... Nor have you returned to Hell."  
  
  


At this the woman gasped, quick Satanic images bombarding her mind. Her grunts and groans summoned Vega to issue a good pump of morphine through the IV, bringing her out of her painful daze as she gripped the blanket and held it close once again.  
  
  
"H-How... How did you-?"  
  
  


"My sensors have detected a certain energy emanating from you that I have only ever detected from demons spawning from gore nests or any UAC machinery once sent through the portal to Hell. It is a unique energy that only comes from close contact with Hell's environment."  
  


The woman shuttered at the name of that wretched place, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the blanket even tighter than before.  
  
  


"Not to mention the fact that you had nearly answered me also indicates that this is, in fact, true."  
  
  


At this the woman's eyes furrowed and her body relaxed involuntarily. _Was that sarcasm she heard?_  
She could feel her defenses crumbling ever so slightly, but not enough to budge, using the blanket as the only malleable shield she had as though she were a child trying to hide from the beast in the closet.   
  
  


She looked around, her watered eyes shimmering in the room's bright light.   
"W...Who are you? Where are you?"  
  
  


At this, the floating contraption made its way to the woman, beginning to transform into something akin to a wheel chair. She tensed up once again as the machine slipped under her and lifted her up, only to place bring her back over to the edge of the bed so she could safely crawl back in. Doing so, she found herself embraced by the comfort of a soft mattress with warm sheets again, as opposed to a cold, hard floor.  
  
  


"My name is Vega," the AI began. "I am a sentient intelligence once assigned to the Mars UAC facility." The door opened once again and another levitating machine entered, this time with a tray full of supplies. The woman tensed up again, her head beginning to hurt from all the stress she put on herself as she anticipated what the supplies were going to do to her. Vega quickly switched the contents of the IV to administer a gentle depressant so she could feel at ease. "I assure you though, miss: the only association I have now with the UAC is my extensive knowledge of their systems and data. You have nothing to fear."  
  
  


Petrified, the woman backed up until her back touched the wall, but once the tray had arrived she could see the tools laying there were significantly different than that she had grown used to.  
They were otherworldly, glowing here and there with the same blue hue as the candles on the side table, labelled with patterns she couldn't quite make out with her headache. They looked almost ancient, yet there was no doubt they were exceedingly advanced... and not to mention oddly familiar.  
  
  


"I will be running a physical check-up so I know what you require to make a full recovery. I understand, however - given a thorough scan of your brain activity in the last 5 minutes - that you have experienced great psychological trauma. Therefore, you may analyze each piece of equipment and ask me what they are for before consenting to a full body physical. Of course, I will need your name in order to register your approval fully. Please take as much time as you need."  
  


The woman couldn't believe her ears. "Y-You want my name?"  
  


"Yes."  
  


"I... haven't been asked for my actual name in so long."  
  


"Have you forgotten it?"  
  


She shook her head. "N-No. It's just been so long. I'd always been called 'the subject' or some other name. I can't quite remember that one right now. But..."

It was quiet for a moment as she reached out and picked up one of the small, otherworldly tools and gave it a good look. The corners of her lips curled upward, slightly, and she looked up toward this wall that could talk, the faintest gleam of hope present in her eyes.  
  


"Taggart. My name is Rahab Taggart."


	3. Execute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stark warning Dr. Hayden gave the Slayer long ago returns to his memory, prodding the Slayer to find out if the mysterious woman is who she says she is.

Shattered pieces of metal and droplets of blood fell to the floor - clinking, splashing and the sound of dripping killing any sort of silence. 

  
Beside himself, the Slayer barely took notice of the deep laceration on his left hand. Metal sank deep into the flesh of his palm as his hand stiffened, shattering part of the assault rifle he had already worked on cleaning.

"Slayer?"

He didn't reply. Staring into nothing, his pupils contracted and the brown in his eyes almost flared as he sat there, brows furrowed but eyes wide and jaw clenched. Blood seeped from his hand, squirting due to how tense he was and the metal etched inside.   
  
  


"Allow me to tend to your hand," Vega began. "It will become infected and rendered useless if not treated quickly."  
  
Abruptly, Flynn stood to his feet, proceeding to march toward the door. 

He snatched a nearby pistol on the way.

A few blinks of his eyes here and there kept him in tune with reality enough to force the door open, a sting shooting up from his hand to his forearm serving as a harsh reminder he had hurt himself.   
  
  
Regardless, he ventured the halls leading to the med-bay, his typical uptight, enraged demeanor returning.  
  


"Vega," he began, reaching his hand out so the AI could tend to it.   
  


A small device hovered over to his injured hand, beginning a very minor surgery to it as he walked.   
  
  
"You didn't tell her anyone else was here, did you?"  
  
  
"No, I have not."  
  
  
Flynn brought a finger to the pistol's trigger.  
  
  
  
"Good...

* * *

  
  
  


"Ah... Soft deep down, are you?" The cyborg Doctor's robotic voice made a mockery of the Slayer standing before him. He knew his rage well, though he cared little so long as it didn't get in the way of _his_ plans. Plus, he knew: so long as he had important information about Hell stored in what was left of his cortex, the Slayer wouldn't lay a finger on him. He needed Dr. Hayden around if he was to finish what he started.  
  


The man didn't respond, making his way around Hayden's ten-foot frame to the screen standing proud behind him.  
  


"You should know, if no results come up then you ought to be relieved. At the very least, it will mean that you won't have anyone to mourn. But at the very most it will mean there is no chance to be... should I say, deceived."  
  


"Deceived, Dr. Hayden?" Vega asked on Flynn's behalf, the man himself proceeding to browse through one of many databases on the supercomputer.  
  


"Many of my former employees have found themselves... led astray by their emotions. Why do you think it's so easy for them to believe the heresies that Olivia fell for herself? She may have been brought into it due to close contact with Hell - as well as many others. But some have fallen for more personal reasons: protecting their loved ones - their families - is the second largest gateway to deception, and the hoards of Hell know this. You would be shocked - perhaps even impressed - at how skilled they are at creating decoys."  
  
  


An abrupt _WHUMP!_ forced Hayden to quit droning on and he turned to see the slayer's gauntlet indented into the desk before the computer.  
  


"Was that necessary?"   
  
  
Flynn stood up straight, picking up his rifle and bumping the cyborg on his way out.  
  


"I'm going to get the damn crucible," he muttered. "Vega..."  
  


"Yes. Opening the portal now."  
  
  


Samuel chuckled, a smidgen of malice in his voice.  
"I take it you weren't too fond of what you found. Tell me, though: mourning or potential for deceit?"  
  
  


Flynn took a breath, resisting the urge to brutalize the man more than his brain cancer had his previous body.  
Taking a step into the portal, he answered simply, "Neither. Last known Taggart has been dead for centuries."   
  
  
"Did you know them?"  
  
  
Flynn stopped dead for a moment.   
"No... I didn't."  
  


If Hayden could raise a brow he would. Folding his arms, he watched the Slayer enter the portal, noticing the slight sag of his shoulders.  
  


  
"Well," he said, a tinge of doubt dripping from his robotic tone just in time for Flynn to hear. "Then I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."  
  
Flynn's form faded into the blue threshold. The Doctor spoke to himself.   
  
  
"Considering Hell's forces will stop at nothing to have you killed, it's good to know they won't have any... leverage."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Rahab could barely breathe, her chest heaved as she huffed and puffed. With one eye covered, supposedly patched up by Vega during her physical, she had the remaining one transfixed on the incredible silhouette standing at the door, now finding herself backed into the corner of her bed and the wall.  
  
  


"Who are you?!" She screamed, the silhouette moving closer, dark, furious eyes making contact with hers. "Vega?!"  
  
  


The AI didn't answer, and her body grew stiff.  
 _"I knew it was too good to be true..!"  
_ Her expression, though fearful, developed a slight grimace to it.  
  
  


Flynn clenched his fist, patched up and temporarily bandaged. He stared daggers at the woman, the subtle change in her expression something that would never slip past a man of his experience.  
  
  


Before she could so much as twitch, a sharp gasp penetrated Rahab's lungs as she was met with a gun to her chest and her hands above her head, pinned to the wall as Flynn held her wrists. Adrenaline set in as she wriggled and struggled, her movements limited what with her legs being exceptionally weak. The fear in her eyes slowly morphed into something determined and ferocious. 

  
  
  
"Get your hands off me, now!"

Unphased, Flynn spoke, his eyes cold and focused, his voice a baritone that she could feel in her chest.   
  
  
"Listen and listen well... I'm very good at knowing when someone is lying to me, so for your sake you better answer - and answer honestly. What's your name?"  
  
  
"Maybe you should ask Vega and-"  
  
  
  
"I want to hear it from you. Now what the hell is your name?"  
  
  


The woman's grimace grew. "Rahab. Rahab Taggart." She answered spitefully, then found herself gagging at the feeling of the pistol's mouth pushing at her throat.   
  
  
  
"Bullshit..." Flynn growled under his breath, and Rahab struggled more as she sensed his finger poking at the trigger.  
  
  
  
"Rahab has been dead for nine and a half centuries, so your explanation as to how you acquired that name better be a damn good one or I'll send you back to the cesspool you came from."  
  
  
Insulted, Rahab hissed, "don't you dare talk to me like I'm a demon. I'm just as human as you are, cad."  
  
  
Flynn's eyes cruised the woman's face and body before scoffing. Whatever 'humanness' Hell or the UAC had tried to make her appear to have - whatever resemblance to the real thing they tried to give this pawn - was lackluster at best. He pushed the gun into the woman's throat more, eliciting a squeak.  
  
  
"I won't ask again: how did you acquire that name?"  
  
  
Rahab struggled to get her throat away from the gun just enough to speak.   
Upon doing so, she coughed, "by birth and by a priest - in that order. Is that an issue?!"  
  
  


That was absolutely not what Flynn wanted to hear; the faces of all three Hell Priests flashed before his eyes.  
The gun found its way to her throat again, and her wrists beginning to grow tender under his tightened grip. Flynn barely realized he'd reopened the cut on his hand.   
  
  
" **What priest?!** "  
  
  
  
Rahab choked on the pressure the weapon placed on her neck. Adrenaline gave her legs just enough strength to kick at the man's torso, though he wouldn't move.  
  
"N-Nilox! Deag Nilox was his name- _Ow!!_ Stop it! Get off of me!!"  
  
  
Rahab's feet kicked at the Slayer's frame again, growing more agitated. He began to actually feel the force of her heels ramming into his abdomen, and it was at this he noticed a subtle glow coming from behind the covering Vega put over her right eye.  
  
  
  
"Don't!" She yelled, pulling her face away as he put his pistol to the side, grabbing the patch and ripping it off. The gun returned to her throat but she shut her eyes tightly, sweating profusely and kicking blindly.

Trying to get a good look at her face, Flynn gripped her wrists even tighter. Her cries of pain and stronger jabs to his stomach forced him to flex more than he took notice. 

  
  
_"Now I see..."_ He thought as she grew stronger with each kick.

  
  
_The cross - a symbol to subdue evil._

  
  
He readied himself to pull the trigger. Surely, upon that eye of hers, was one of the many markings of Hell: a pentagram yet to be covered by cosmetics to make her look real - human.   
To make her look like Rahab.

_  
  
"Those bastards figured it all out, huh?"_

  
  
A grunt escaped his lips as yet another kick met his abdomen, one significantly stronger than the last. 

_  
The golden glow. A 'life-force similar to his'.  
  
"She was gonna be their newest weapon."_

  
Blood rushed to his battered hand quickly. It overtook the bandages upon it, proceeding to ooze and slide down his arm. Eventually, the bandages grew wet enough that his blood inched its way to the woman's wrists, threatening to dampen and stain her skin with crimson.   
  
Flynn's finger, resting on the pistols trigger, flexed. It would be over for this impostor in a moment, and he could go back to what he was supposed to do. 

  
  
_"She's dangerous."_

  
His blood reached her wrists.

  
  
The sound of a round going off echoed through the corridors of his massive fortress... and the room before him disappeared.


	4. Remember

An abysmal white stretched all around as far as the eye could see. An empty canvas - a clean slate.  
  
The gun, the girl - everything else was gone.

Flynn looked at his hands. Even the bandages, the blood. His scars.  
All of it had disappeared.

He brought a hand up to his face, slowly feeling it all over. He lifted his shirt and examined his torso.

Every scar, every divot - away as though they had never been to begin with. Another clean slate.

The man didn't know what to make of it, despite absolutely everything else he had gone through in his life. Yet a sharp sense of relief still found its way to him in this mysterious place, bringing him a tinge of chest pain. Something about this place brought him a sense of home - belonging - a feeling of something long lost being found by him again; soon he realized why. 

"Flynn?" 

  
  
A gentle voice called, gracing his ears with its sweet, welcoming tone. Taking a small breath he turned, slowly, and his eyes widened, captivated by a sight he was sure he'd never be blessed with again: Rahab, the real one - fully human.   
Tan skin and deep brown eyes glistening in whatever source of light this place had hanging from above; soft, hard-to-manage curls extending all the way down to the small of her back, and the curvature of her body wrapped in a long, white dress with a slit; a dress made with cloth preciously produced and woven in Argent D'nur. Her thick lips curved into a gentle smile - something Flynn hadn't seen in eons.

"Fly," she called softly, an Argenta accent making it sound as though she said _Fleigh._

The sound struck the man right in the heart, the pain-like sensation increasing. Staring, mouth slightly agape, he lifted a heel to begin walking over.  
  
His voice croaked, "Rakab..?"in his Argenta tongue.  
It was an ancient language, an intimate language, escaping his lips under only the rarest of circumstances.  
  


Rahab stretched her arms before her for an embrace, a full tooth grin growing on her face as she approached Flynn elegantly. His footsteps gradually grew faster as he approached. He wasn't the smiling type but the rare gleam in his eye on his stoic (yet shocked) face said it all. The urge to dash over and take her in his arms nearly grew irresistible before he spotted something off the corner of his eye. A dark aura came floating about from behind the woman, something akin to a dark fog.  
  


It only took a quick, observant glance for him to see what it was. It was Hell's Fog, a rare creature disguised as simple, seemingly harmless vapor with a lust for hiding its screaming victims, playing on the emotions of the victim's counterparts to draw them in as well. He only ever saw it once during the Unholy Crusade - during his time as a Night Sentinel - remembering well how his compatriots fell for its trick and how little of them he could save.  
  
  
Flynn's heart stopped dead in his chest.

"Rakab - krahast!"  
  


Swiftly, Rahab stopped, looking behind her to see what was there - but it enclosed her before she could react, and the sudden sound of an agonized scream filled the air. Hearing her shriek, "Flynn! Help!" the man sprung into action, his feet pushing him closer and closer to the cloud before Rahab pulled out from its grip. She bawled and weeped, scared out of her mind as she reached out desperately. A pair of black claws emerged from the cloud and forced her back in. She made a second attempt to escape.  
It was at this that, eyes widening, Flynn screeched to a halt - horror overshadowing his entire face for the first time since his younger years.  
  


The unholy shriek of the Slayer's name tore through Rahab's throat. " **FLY!!** "  
Eyes overflowing with tears of water and blood, her cries grew louder as her temples split, a pair of horns shredding through and snaking around her head, causing strips of skin to peel off and slide down the streaks of crimson staining the sides of her beautiful face.  
  


" **HELP ME! HELP ME!!** " The right side of Rahab's body steadily developed a red hue to it. The iris of her right eye disappeared under a pus-like substance, shifting its lovely brown to a disgusting vomit-like texture surrounded by black rather than white. With every attempt the black hand made to force her into the blackened vapour it tore the skin on her right arm, leg, and face, more blood discharing from the fresh, raw openings.  
  


An all too familiar rage built up inside the Slayer, and with it the pull of righteous indignation, as he witnessed the atrocity. He made a beeline for Rahab again, ready to rip apart whatever hellish monstrocity had her in its clutches. His hand reached out for hers; she reached out for his only to have it all vanish before him.  
  


Once again, he found himself alone in this white limbo, accompanied only by the sound of his shallow breaths. With his eyes stuck on the place where Rahab had been previously, he fell to his knees, realization slowly closing in on him.  
  


"No wonder. She..." His voice trailed off as he remembered the gun to her throat, her wrists, the fear and the fight in her eyes. Her name.  
"B-But how? It... It's been 9 centuries. I...I didn't realize. I..."  
  


Sweat trickled from his forehead and he looked at his hands. A pinch of regret nipped at his throat.  
  


_"...What have I done?"_

* * *

Rahab found herself in this mysterious white limbo too.

It was simply one hallucination - one mind game after another for her, and her head felt as though it would burst at any moment. She brought her hands to her face, frustrated, but pulled them back in surprise at the sight before her: they were both the same colour with the same complexion - the same smooth, tan hue. At once, she lifted her hands to her temples. 

Those horns - those dreaded, heavy horns - were gone and she stumbled in disbelief at the feeling.

"What?!" Rahab whispered sharply. 

She looked all around her, taking a few steps now that her legs wouldn't give out.  
As she took another glance at her body, returned to normal, she felt the ground shake beneath her feet. She stood alert, finally able to take a proper fighting stance as she anticipated what would come next. She listened, taking into account that a sound - like that of someone stomping - accompanied the shake with a particular rhythm. Whatever it was it was walking steadily but heavily. It was something big, no doubt, so she looked out for any figure that might emerge from the white abyss surrounding her.

The woman's shrewdness left her back exposed for a moment. More quickly than she could even process, something came up behind her. She whirled around, the length of her hair brushing whatever it was for a moment before she turned completely, fist clenched and ready to strike.

Her hand struck a hard surface, the power sending a small gust of wind that carried her hair a couple inches - though what she hit wasn't what she expected. She'd expected an armoured shell, a thick husk protecting whatever she was about to assault. Instead, her fist met the solid palm of a hand significantly larger than her own.

Her brows furrowed for a moment before she looked up, another pair of deep, brown eyes meeting hers. At a loss for words, she pulled her fist away and stumbled back, nearly tripping over herself.   
  


Covered from shoulder to toe in Night Sentinal armour - hand crafted especially for commanding officers - was the Slayer, his hand still stretched out as he held his pronged helmet with the other.

  
"F-Fly?" 

  
  
A gleam in his eye indicated he was happy to see her though his face remained stoic. He bore little scars on any other area but his torso and arms - the scars he attained before his mysterious arrival on Argent D'nur. Though he'd fought and led many battles, it was seldom that any other scratch found its way to his body; a sign of an astute and skilled warrior... And that he was.

"Rakab," he answered, his tone flat but still sweet somehow - his lips curling upward only slightly and his eyelids drooping.   
Rahab nearly choked on the air she breathed, and before she knew it she found herself clinging to Flynn, her cheek pressing hard against his breastplate without a care for how uncomfortable it was.

"Aki pensak termidaka!" _I thought they killed you!_  
She gripped at his back, pulling herself closer and feeling his warmth.   
"I'm so glad you're safe..!"

Upon hearing the sudden _CLUNK!_ of his helmet hitting the ground, she anticipated the feeling of his arms wrapping around her - and that they did, but not in a way she was expecting.

It wasn't a warm embrace but a tight grasp. His hand held the back of her head with an iron grip and her heart nearly burst out her chest in terror as she remembered the same iron grip grasping at her wrists not five minutes ago.

_"That man... Flynn? No, it couldn't be... But-"_

The sudden emerging sound of various footsteps, approaching voices, unholy shrieks - utter chaos - came, and with them a growing tremble in Flynn's body - not one of terror, but something sinister.   
Looking up as much as she could, her eyes watered with concern as Flynn's face completely transformed. She barely recognized him; he was so... infuriated, cold and focussed - keeping her close not like a lover but like an apex predator protecting its game from rivals.

"F-Flynn, what's wrong? What's happening?"   
Rahab asked, frantic. She blinked hard, trying to see if she could wake up from this dream before the man holding her close disappeared in thin air and the surrounding noises muted abruptly. With nothing to hold her leaning frame, she fell forward onto her knees, her mind now a mess of confusion. 

  
  
There was no way the cad who'd been man-handling her earlier could have possibly been the man she knew. Was he focussed, mighty and significantly stolid? Of course he was - and he was known throughout Argent D'nur for his 'enthusiasm' when it came to eradicating Hell's forces.  
Regardles... Though he was rough, tough, and somewhat nonchalant when it came to other people, he was never cold, completely void of feeling - merciless.  
  
Rahab didn't know what to make of it. 

  
Suddenly, she found herself letting out a sharp gasp as the sound of a man's cries shocked her out of her thoughts, and she didn't spare a moment to look over her shoulder.

There Flynn stood, his back turned and his shoulders rising and falling with every deep and seemingly tired breath he took. Surrounded by piles and piles of demon corpses, he wore a suit she'd never seen before: a green, heavily armoured suit covering everything but his head. It certainly _looked_ like his Night Sentinal uniform - but it wasn't. He had what she assumed was the helmet to this suit in his hands, watching as he closely examined it.

"Flynn?" She called out, more cautiously this time.

Something wasn't right.

Flynn raised his head a bit then slowly began to turn around...  
Rahab's pupils shrunk at what she fixed her eyes on.

His face was completely soaked in blood. The skin across the bridge of his nose, near the bottom of his eye, his chin and forehead were split wide open, squirting and spitting out blood - clearly the work of some of the demons he had just killed.  
His eyes were no longer cold and focussed but dark and empty - still incensed. Nothing, absolutely nothing, but rage and vengeance radiated off of him.

The woman shuddered before her body froze in terror and heartbreak - realization, and her eyes widened slightly in disbelief.   
_"I-It is him..!"_

Flynn's lips parted, and he snarled, "Kill them... Kill them, k-kill them," like a broken record.  
With every repeat of the phrase he grew more unstable until finally he dropped the helmet.   
He took a strained, deep breath... Then, with a damaged crack in his throat, he howled, " **KAR EN TUK!!** "

The sheer volume of his cry demanded that Rahab cover her ears. The moment her hands clamped them shut, it ended.

The screaming. The dream.

All of it was over as she found herself falling back against the mattress of a bed, suddenly coughing and gasping for air.

* * *

Flynn's body jolted, staggering back and releasing Rahab's wrists before dropping the gun. The woman hacked and wheezed, collapsing into the bed, her wrists throbbing and legs trembling. Worn breaths struggled their way out of her lungs until her body forced itself to cough profusely and open up her airways. There was little room for her to notice the way the man stood and stared with his mouth slightly opened and palms facing up. His brow glistened from a nervous sweat, causing some of his dark hair to plaster itself against his forehead, and his now-dampened shirt rubbed uncomfortably with every small move he made.  
  


The lack of any blood (aside from his own) and the sight of a hole in the wall - indicating he hadn't shot _her_ \- made a wave of relief come over him.

It all made sense now - at least partially.

Scars and deformities, physical and mental traumas of all kinds covering them from head to toe. No wonder they hadn't recognized one another - no wonder they had forgotten.

Rahab's throat finally cleared after what seemed like way too long, but the fit she just had left her body all the more shaky than it had been before. Struggling to sit up, she hissed at the pain coming from her wrists when she put her weight on them. The endless bouts of stress from what seemed like eons worth of traumatic experiences finally caught up to her and all kinds of pain - from cramping to burning to aching and shooting - surged from her wrists to every other nook and cranny of her body, making it clear she wasn't caught in any sort of dream _now._

The weight of her body too much for her to handle, grasped by the force of gravity, shifted greatly to the point where she fell toward the edge of the bed. A good hit to the head was inevitable and she prepared herself (as much as she was able in this condition) to pass out and wake up with a concussion; and pass out she did.

Her eyes opened slowly, the light of the room causing her to blink.   
Unresponsive except for her quiet breaths and wandering eyes, she looked around expecting to be in bed with a horrible headache - some bandages around her head, maybe - only to lock on to a pair of eyes. Dark brown eyes with bits of auburn sprinkled here and there.

Flynn, on his knees, stared intently - gently - at Rahab as he encased her carefully yet firmly in his arms, taking in the patterns of her eyes with shock, awe and confusion.  
Though her left eye remained a lovely shade of brown with a honey-like hue to it in the presence of light, her right eye was completely different.  
It didn't bear a pentagram like he assumed it would. Instead, her iris had taken the form of a cross; a shimmering, gold-like cross - much like the one in her pod.

The pieces slowly began to come together in the Slayer's mind.   
_"Wonder where that came from. But it must have kept her from being fully possessed, somehow..."_

Rahab felt warm again, much warmer than she did with the blankets around her. She felt shielded.

Safe at last.   
  
Trembling from the immense pain in her body, she could barely so much as shift without wincing, but that didn't keep her from trying to snuggle up to Flynn's bulky chest.

"Rahab..." The Slayer said, his voice soft - a wave of heat coming over the girl's face from how much it changed since their ordeal.   
"Stop, don't do that."

Rahab kept moving, carefully positioning herself so she could bring her ear closer to his chest and listen to his heartbeat. The sight of how bruised (and bloodied from the cut on _his_ hand) her wrists had become moved the Slayer to more readily secure the woman in his arms, stand, and gently place her on the bed.

She grasped at his shirt, cringing at the pain that even overtook the joints in her fingers.   
"Rakab." Flynn, with the utmost care, took her arms and pried her hands away from his shirt.   
"Aki ne krofta."   
  
_I told you to stop.  
_

"...Vega, I yanked the IV by accident. She'll need a new one. And..." He paused, choking on his regret. "Her wrists, can you do something about that?"  
  


"Yes, absolutely."  
  


"And my hand, I busted it open again. Mind dealing with that after getting her in shape?"  
  


"Yes."  
  


Flynn got to work retrieving the blankets that slipped off the bed, tidying up and getting Rahab settled in as best he could as he breathed a deep sigh.  
  


Rahab stared at the man, exhaustion in her eyes that left her limp enough for Vega to move her body however much he needed to do another check-up. Water in her eyes began to build up into full-fledged tears as her heart fluttered at the sight before her - a sight she never thought she'd lay her eyes on again: her beloved. Her husband.  
  


"Derk ak de iknus..."Rahab's voice, soft and meek, reached Flynn's ears and a sort of nostalgia hit him.  
  


"...What?"

Voice shaky as tears fell down her face, Rahab repeated herself. "D-Derk ak de iknus..." _Save us from the fire.  
  
_

Flynn stood up straight, his eyes meeting hers with a gentle, awed stare. She trembled and her lip quivered; eyes heavy from the exhausting ordeals, crying, and the depressant entering her system through the newly placed IV, she began to nod off.   
  


Her head threatened to hang low uncomfortably until the tips of the Slayer's brawny fingertips caught her chin. He came close, his warm breath and thumb brushing against her lips as he replied, "aku vi te kar en tuk..." _We will rip and tear until it is done.  
  
_

Rahab's eyelids shut and sleep enfolded her before she got the chance to push herself forward and give the man a long over-due kiss. Her hair fell gracefully over her face as she sagged forward like a ragdoll, her head resting on Flynn's breast. Combing a hand through her hair, he cupped the back of her head and gently took her by the side with the other, laying her down gently.  
  


"Vega, I gotta go," he began as he stood up, making his way toward the door. "Keep an eye on her... I won't be long"  
  


"Understood. The repairs on your suit are complete, and there is an additional assault rifle in your arsenal. I shall also repair your hand before your departure."  
  


A hum was Flynn's only response as his eyes fixed themselves on Rahab's sleeping, tear-stained face. Remorse nearly overthrew his composure and he bit his lip subtly, resisting the urge to get emotional. Now was not the time.   
He needed to focus.

  
At once, he made a stride away from the door, heading back toward his quarters, reaching his left hand out again in silence so Vega could get to work patching it up again.  
  


Flynn took a quick glance at said hand as Vega began to disinfect and clean out the wound with the Argenta tech of the ship, and allowed himself one more moment of reminiscing before it was show time again.  
  


He curled his fingers just enough to get a good look at them, and his eyes cruised his ring finger in particular. Before Vega's machinery could get in the way, the Slayer's eyelids lowered slightly as he peered at a scar never before seen by anyone: a scar engraved by the burning metal of his wedding ring the last time he ventured to the fiery depths of Hell.  
  


Though the ring had essentially melted in combat, at the very least it left that mark - that reminder - of what fueled his resolve; something that drew him to (but wasn't limited to) Rahab. Something that drew him back to Earth, to his people, despite their transgressions. Even he didn't quite understand how this pull manifested itself through him, though he knew what it was and he knew it well.  
  


He never quite let on what it was with words, and many had been too afraid of him to think he could have any other motivation aside from pure spite, rage and hatred. But to anyone who knew - who paid attention - it was obvious.   
  


Love.  
He was fueled by love. 


	5. The Adversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Slayer encounters yet another blast from the past, and its with a few slips of the tongue that certain, undiscovered aspects of himself begin to be uncovered.

The ARC complex: once an industrial campus, served as a mighty stronghold against Hell in the last decade. Earth's leaders and very best soldiers, most advanced weapons technology, and secretaries of defense gathered there once. Over the years they'd spent their time developing thorough battle strategies, blueprinting safe havens for the remaining 40% of the population that had survived, and, of course, researching how to exploit Argent energy to their advantage. It was once a pristine facility, held to the highest standards by its head, and former head of the UAC: Dr. Samuel Hayden.

  
Now it was a wreck. Lights flickered here and there. Automatic doors and common doors alike hung from broken hinges. There were piles of rubble concrete to climb, and halls riddled with dust and blood difficult to navigate at times.

Given its condition, it was no wonder the UAC seized the opportunity to gloat. 

  
  
**"Good news for the faithful!"** A holograph image proclaimed with a rather dark (and irritating) enthusiasm. The UAC always had a knack for its propaganda.

**"The deciever, Samuel Hayden, has fallen. The ARC is no more!"**

The Slayer scoffed. "Huh, so the prick really did get torn apart. What a shame."

  
  
"His office is in the outpost on the other side of this complex," Vega added. "From what I understand, what is left of him was retrieved and currently being tended to and monitored by ARC personnel. So he is still alive. The demonic crucible is there as well."

"Tch, of course."

Flynn didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. His relationship with the doctor had always been a very tense one. 

No amount of 'assurance' that the UAC's initial use of Argent energy was only for the sake of the planet's energy crisis would be enough to make the Slayer hate Samuel any less.  
That said, the doctor was beyond intelligent, making him an asset - Flynn's only chance to track down the final Hell priest and bring the earth closer to salvation. Begrudgingly, the man obliged to find him, bringing him to the ARC complex.

  
  
He'd nearly lost himself in thought of how badly he would like to rip the cyborg a new one until a nearby panel caught his eye. The green glow upon its screen contrasted the darkness of the worn down facility. He raised a brow, intrigued, as he noticed that the glow came from an image of his own symbol: "the mark of the Beast" as the priests would call it.

He approached the panel to take a look, tapping on the screen for a moment before a recording (one of many) began to play.

_"This is Dr. Elena Richardson, log entry 002 - subject analysis of Doom Slayer..."_

* * *

"M-My god! Umm..." A flustered ARC scientist adjusted his glasses and unwrinkled his jumpsuit a bit, continuing with a stutter as the Slayer's towering form strode into the laboratory.   
"D-Dr. Hayden was convinced... um... that you would come here for this... eventually."

Looking ahead, Flynn saw it: the demonic crucible. A weapon of unfathomable power and destructive potential against Hell's forces, despite its power supposedly stemming from Hell itself.  
  


 _"You'd think that'd be kind of redundant, hmm? A powerhouse with a weapon it could destroy itself with."_ The Slayer remembered Dr. Hayden saying to him as he looked for the crucible all those years ago. Though he would never admit it, the doctor was right. 

  
  
It was, indeed, quite the contradiction.

Taking the crucible in his hand, the Slayer examined its otherworldly, skeletal design. The memory of Dr. Hayden snatching this artifact from him before sending him to who-knows-where made his eye twitch. He directed a sharp gaze toward the sluice that led to the next room. What was left of that narcissist's hide was surely behind it, probably gloating despite his endless human errors. His pride was tantamount to the Slayer's rage.

The young scientist who greeted him stammered as he tried to catch up. The look in his eye reminded Flynn of a portion of a log entry he'd listened to earlier.  
  
 _"I believe him now to be more than just a man - he is...Doom."_

"Uh, can I just say that it is an honour for me, personally, to meet you? I...oop!" With a sudden trip, the young man caught himself on a guard railing nearby, to which Flynn chuckled quietly at himself.

He shook his head.   
"An honour? Pfft." He chaffed under his breath.

  
The power coursing through his veins was unprecedented to be sure, but the man within the suit was only that: a man, as far as he was concerned. 

Although, he couldn't deny it, even if his stoicism said otherwise: it was quite the ego boost. Knowing that his presence brought these people some sort of hope was like a soothing balm to a wound. It held him together and kept him going when despair tempted him to wonder if it was all pointless.

ARC personnel fled the scene as Flynn made his way into the following room and marched up the stairs. His arrival triggered an alarm to exit the facility, and a certain look of fear was in the eyes of the people who accidentally got in his way. It was more of a righteous fear than anything, but that didn't hasten the habit of backing away from the muscle-bound figure making his way to what was left of their leader.

The Slayer felt the urge to laugh when he saw how much of a mess Samuel was. A bunch of burnt and damaged wires protruded out of what was left of him. Rather than standing tall and proud at ten feet, he was now hooked up to a machine with his head hung low, practically lifeless.  
  


The scientist from before finally caught up.   
"Uh, we don't know how to access his main cortex. It's all... alien, and we couldn't figure it out."  
  
  


Flynn put a hand on his hip as he looked at the youth then back at Hayden, his blank look turning to a slight frown.   
"'Alien', huh..?"  
  


The scientist fumbled for words, caught between his admiration and fear.  
"Yes sir. W-We have to prepare for his _careful_ extraction," he instructed, careful not to sound too demanding. "We were given specific orders."  
  
  


At this, Flynn's shoulders drooped.  
"Oh please..." he muttered.  
  
Taking a stride forward, he snatched the cyborg by his only remaining arm and pried him out of the machine that was likely keeping him alive. The scientist didn't have the gall to protest, simply backing away as the Slayer hoisted Samuel's remains up to get a good look at him.

"His life signal is barely readable," Vega remarked.

"Barely... Doesn't mean he's dead though. We'll take him back and-"

**_"WARNING: Demonic presence threat level 5 entering main laboratory."_ **

The floor beneath rumbled violently, evoking any remaining ARC scientists to make a run for it.

_"Level 5?"  
_ Flynn blinked, looking around with peculiarity until a red beam appeared off the corner of his eye. He turned his head, seeing that a portal was materializing - one similar to Vega's aside from its scarlet hue.

A boot stepped out from within the portal, one of Argenta design, and it didn't take the Slayer long to figure out what was coming: a Marauder.   
A possessed and corrupted Night Sentinel - one of his fellow warriors from the distant past, no doubt, indoctrinated and transformed in his absence.

Its intimidating form strode in confidently, slowly, throwing a glare from its pulsating eyes with a colour similar to that of the portal. Squinting, the Slayer looked upon the seal on its belt, the pattern proving itself familiar. 

He sighed softly. This Marauder wasn't just any random Night Sentinel.

Flynn took a slight step back as Vega opened the portal.  
  
Hoisting up Hayden's remains once more, he whispered, "keep his life at 'barely readable' until I get back, would you?" Without breaking eye-contact with his emerging foe, he tossed the robotic vessel into the portal, and it disappeared into its blue aura before it closed.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Flynn began, shaking his head and trying his darnedest not to smirk.   
"For shame, Altair - I thought you'd come sooner."

A scowl made its way to the Marauder's face.

"Don't patronize me, Slayer... You were never one of us. You were nothing but a usurper - a _false_ idol."

The two began circling one another, in preparation for one or the other to strike first.

"I was never an idol to begin with. The priests only made me a Sentinel because they wanted to break me, and I did what I had to survive. You - all of you - _decided_ to praise me for proving my skill."

Irritated, his cursed former-comrade activated his axe, sparks flying as he dragged it against the metallic floor.

"Tch, _skill_? Don't flatter yourself, Slayer. You may have survived the realms of Hell as a mere mortal, but I know the truth. You stole all the power from the divinity machine. You couldn't accept your inferiority - that you were not of Sentinel Blood. You took it all, feigned your likeness to that of a wraith or a Makyr, when you ought to have known your place as a slave."

  
The Marauder looked into the distance for a moment before his frown deepened to a growler.  
"Rakab," he snarled.  
  
  
Flynn's face grew darker as well.   
_"Of course he'd bring that up... What a cliche."  
  
_

"An Argenta woman... The blessed. _My_ betrothed. You, a primitive being, deceived her and stole her from me."

  
"You keep telling yourself that, Altair," Flynn sneered. "But I didn't 'steal' anything."

  
  
One thing stuck out to him in particular: describing Rahab as "the blessed."  
A compliment from a jealous heart, perhaps? Flynn wasn't sure.   
  


The circling stopped for a moment as the Marauder pointed one of his sharp nails in his foe's direction.   
  
  
"I tell and submit myself to truth - to the Kahn Makyr. Rahab would have surely come with me. Her blessed soul surely would have been saved and not gone to waste had you not indoctrinated her with your heresies!" 

There that word was again. 

Altair took a breath before chuckling softly - condescendingly.  
  
"Then again, I should have known you wouldn't know any better; lesser beings are foolish beings, afterall. I should have known you would even dare to use the divinity machine, and steal the gift of the Makyrs to go _against_ the Makyrs, the priests - us!"  
  


Flynn's patience wore thin and he snapped.  
  
"What are you getting at, Altair?! 'Blessed', 'gone to waste'? 'Heresies'?! For crying out loud, I used what was _given_ to me - by a Makyr - to keep you and your people _safe_ from the things that threatened to kill me and my people! Are you honestly about to tell me I was supposed to do the opposite and just let your people be slaughtered?"

"More lies and deceit. A Makyr would never bestow or condone such a thing, least of all to someone like you."  
  


Flynn didn't like how he dodged the question, but he continued.  
"Also, you lost your damn mind to the priests, Altair. You went insane, and Rakab left because you terrorized her. That was _your_ fault!"

Flynn cut himself off immediately, taking his tone into account. Despite his belligerence, he was well known for his self-control, so to lose his composure would ignite suspicion of Rahab's survival. His opponent let on more than he realized by emphasizing her supposed 'blessedness', how it had gone to waste. Clearly, there was more to what he said than some simple, jealous blathering over a girl.   
  
No, it was a revelation: she was some sort of asset to Hell's schemes. 

  
  
Another pitiful chuckle escaped the Marauder's lips.  
"Lesser beings truly _are_ foolish beings."

A quick point of his axe in Flynn's direction was more than enough to make him brace for impact. Though no blast came for him, he still reached for his shot gun.   
  
"If I'm so foolish, enlighten me, then."

  
"You came as an outsider and stole Argenta birthright's - _my_ birthrights: access to the divinity machine, Rakab. Had I been king, I would have had your head on a stake." The Marauder made a decapitating motion with his axe, and the barrel of Flynn's gun pointed in his direction.

  
  
"And now, as a result, you wrongfully hold the Mark of the Beast!" Altair shrieked, his body twitching. 

  
  
The Marauder slipped in his wording again, and Flynn took a small breath.  
 _"'As a result..?'" So the machine **and** Rahab have something to do with my mark?"_

 _  
_  
"I-It is written," the Marauder strained. "'The energy will be restored once again from the souls of the _non-believers._ The Beast: he too will be fueled by the souls of the non-believers as he harvests them.' If you are the Beast, 'Great Slayer', then where is your harvest? The overwhelming majority of your people: they do _not_ believe yet you refuse to harvest them!"

  
  
Perplexity eclipsed Flynn's face as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. It all seemed... off, self-contradictory. He remembered the demonic crucible.

  
  
Altair sighed.   
"But alas, many of the people of Argent D'nur did not believe. You did nothing about that either, yet their judgement was secured all the same."

  
  
It took every fibre of the Slayer's being not to pull the shot gun's trigger just yet as his body tensed and trembled a bit. A vengeful rage was brewing at what he heard.

  
  
"You... You mean to tell me everyone is-?"  
  
"Not everyone. After you disappeared, we finished off your remaining men - and King Novik. We took to the cities. Few made it through the cleansing process; the few who submitted to the Kahn. It was - is - righteous, exhilarating, to be on the right side of the history of the cosmos."

  
  
The trembling in Flynn's body increased.

  
  
"It is the non-believers' time to repent and to give service to the Kahn Makyr - _to us_. They were deserving of judgment, they still are. They are deserving of the sting of _your_ steel-barreled sword, and yet you point it toward us?! You protect the blasphemers?! You are not the Beast. You area usurper!" 

There was a deafening silence for a moment before the Slayer snarled. Voice coated with an almost righteous bloodlust, eyes bloodshot from the tension in his face as he clenched his jaw, he said, "C'mere then... Try to remove me from my office, devil."

  
  
Altair grew more unstable. Flynn could see it in his eyes as they almost seemed to flicker.  
"Oh," he grunted, making rapid steps toward the Slayer. "I intend to."

Flynn approached as well, shotgun at the ready and eyes burning with vengeance.   
All those people, entrusting their livelihoods - their souls - to the priests and the Makyr's and for what? Terror and death.   
  


He let out a cry in unison with his opponent as they charged at one another. The sharp sound of clashing metal rang as the Marauder's blade pushed hard against that protruding from the Slayer's wrist gear. They pushed against eachother's weight for a bit until Flynn delivered a hardy kick to the Marauder's stomach, sending him back a ways before firing a round from his shot-gun.

  
  
With a quick dodge, a terrible battle ensued, one that shook the ARC facility to its core.

Grunts of pain. Clashing metal. Fired bullets. Flesh ripping open. The occasional sputter from a mouth full of blood.   
  
Yet another symphony of death and retribution.

  
  
With every punch he was able to land, the Slayer could practically hear the cries of helpless Argenta women and children as they died torturous deaths, the hoards of Hell feasting to their hearts' content. With every hot bullet that was able to make Altair's clammy flesh bubble and pop, the screams of pain from the men and remaining Night Sentinels reverberated through his mind; the agony they must have felt when they found themselves overwhelmed, knowing as they bled to death, were torn apart limb from limb, or eaten alive that they wouldn't be able to go home and protect their loved ones. 

A shot of Argent energy from Altair's blade sent Flynn back, and he couldn't get back up on his feet before his former comrade came before him, attempting to slice his head off right then and there. The Slayer rolled out of the way quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid a counter attack.   
  
With a sudden shove and a quick swipe of his blade, Altair sliced the breast-plate of the praetor suit, burning a whole into it to expose part of his adversary's chest. It wasn't until a burning sensation came that the Slayer realized he hadn't only sliced the suit.   
  
The massive gash on his chest throbbed as blood sloshed out of it and made some small yet thick puddles on the floor. 

**"Low Health"** his visor alerted him, and his vision grew blurry as he stumbled. The wound was deeper than he thought. This moment of weakness gave his mind the space to acknowledge the hard pang of regret that gutted him, nearly losing himself as he wondered what could have been if he hadn't let his lust for demon blood lure him to obscurity; if he hadn't disappeared. 

  
  
Altair, panting for breath - his flesh peeling and hanging off of his frame - let out a deafening, maniacal laugh at the sight of the man he despised looking so weak. Eyes wide and twitching, he stumbled his way over to the Slayer to finish the job, the horror that was his sadistic, bloodied smile appearing as his mask fell off.   
  
"The Beast," his voice cracked, and he kept laughing. "I am - I will be - the Beast! The power... it'll be mine!"

Finally making his way over to Flynn's wobbly frame, the Marauder took hold of his axe with both hands. Bringing his arms up slowly, he prepared - full to the brim with insanity - to have the Slayer's head, just like he'd always wanted.

  
  
With one final swing, the sound of a heavy clump of wet flesh hitting the floor ended the brawl.  
Altair stood there, his twisted smile plastered on his face as he looked toward the floor to navigate his prize.  
  
It wasn't what he wanted.  
  
It wasn't a head, but rather an arm.

...

His arm, with his axe in the grip of its hand.

  
  
"What-" he began, quickly interrupted by his own blood flooding out of his mouth. Looking down, he saw it: the blade of the demonic crucible tearing through his now-exposed and lacerated intestines, and the infamous look of unadulterated rage in the Slayer's eyes that blared through his visor.   
  
The Marauder shrieked an unholy shriek and it was at this that Flynn forced the crucible out of him, ripping and tearing his flesh even more before grabbing him by a horn and stabbing him through his wind pipe. 

  
  
Altair choked, his broken form failing to push the Slayer away, and it was at this pitiful act that Flynn felt a sort of heaviness in his heart.   
  
After a few minutes, the bloodied creature's body began to fall limp. A fraction of his original, uncorrupted self came through as he gargled incoherently with his last breath, "derk ak de iknus..." _Save us from the fire;_ and a slight, saddened change in the Slayer's expression was the last thing Altair saw before his head hung to the side, a single tear pouring from his eye and rolling down his bloodied cheek.

  
  
A haunting silence fell over the ARC facility after that. Despite his blurring vision, Flynn refused to break eye contact until the light from the Marauder's eyes was completely gone.   
Certain that he was dead, he put the body down, staring at it as he struggled to breath. 

  
  
The amalgamated look of anger and sadness remained on his face as he clenched his jaw, the way his eyes squinted making it look as though he was about to cry.   
  
  
"V-Vega..." He stammered, picking up the demonic crucible and stumbling back.

  
  
"Yes. Opening the portal now."  
  
The AI made sure the portal opened right behind the man so he could return to the fortress as soon as possible. Flynn turned to enter, but took a pause as he looked over his shoulder at the husk that was once Altair. That pang of regret came over him again.

  
  
 _"This could have all been prevented..."_ He thought.  
Through the eyes of his heart he could see in Altair the bodies of all the Argenta, torn apart with widened eyes and tear stained faces.

_"I'm sorry I didn't save you."_

Flynn limped toward the portal, pressing a hand hard against his bleeding chest.

Delirious from the pain he mumbled to himself, in a daze. He knew he'd pass out once he got to the fortress. 

"Blessed. Gone to waste. B-Blessed... Gone to waste."

  
  
Hoping the repetitions would serve his memory well, he continued like a broken record as he disappeared into the blue aura of the portal.


	6. The Ally (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rahab finds herself in the unnerving presence of the infamous Samuel Hayden, who Vega insists is a key asset to the Slayer's mission to stop the Hellish invasion on planet Earth.

A loud thud got Rahab's attention, and the woman's curls bounced as she looked around. She got up from bed slowly, in a daze, nervous as she hesitated to call, "Vega?"  
  


"Good evening, Rahab." He answered. A cool wave of relief burst from her head to her toes. "I trust you feel well rested! It has been approximately 12 hours and 17 minutes since you were last awake. While you were asleep, I took the liberty of cleaning you up, tending to your wounds, and acquiring new garments for you. I hope this was alright."  
  


Rahab hadn't noticed but Vega was right. Looking down she gazed upon a clean, baby-blue garment complete with a new IV inserted into her vein. Given its rather incredible size, the garment had an off-the-shoulder look and it draped to her knees, its looseness showing that her forearms, wrists and legs were wrapped firmly yet tenderly in bandages - and that the remainder of her body remained in a comfortable body suit made of a similar fabric. Her cross-marked eye was covered again as well.   
She couldn't help but smile.  
  


"Thank you, Vega," she said, reaching out toward the wall and caressing it gently, offering the AI a grateful touch.   
Looking around a bit afterwards, she asked, "what was that noise?"  
She looked at the garment, noticing - again - its rather incredible size and how it often tried to slip off her body. "And... Where's Flynn?"  
  


The door on the other side of the room opened and in came the contraption that formed into a wheel-chair. It rolled over to Rahab, assisting her out of bed and disconnecting the IV as Vega explained.  
  


"Your husband," he began, and she blushed, "is currently on planet Earth. He had just recently retrieved an ally of ours to help hasten our mission to stop Hell's invasion of the planet. What you heard was said ally coming through the portal."  
  


Rahab looked unsure.  
  
"I will explain in more detail but it is imperative that you eat first. You are recovering rather steadily, but an IV can only do so much - wouldn't you agree?"  
  


Rahab giggled. Vega may not have been flesh and blood, but he could most certainly speak like someone who was.   
"Allow me to take you to the still room. I have prepared a simple meal for you. As the days go by, I will increase and diversify your portions to ensure you are gently nursed to health."  
  


Rahab giggled again.  
"I'm so hungry... I'm sure I could eat my weight in whatever you've got, Vega."  
  


"I kindly request that you give me some time before I have to treat you for an upset stomach."

Fumbling for words at his quick response, the woman erupted in a hearty laugh as she was wheeled into the dining area, the sound echoeing through the hallways of this vast fortress. Though it caused her great pain, it was a pain well worth that tinge of joy she greatly missed.

If the AI could muster a visible smile, he would.

* * *

Rahab stumbled out from the still room, her stomach full and strength slowly restoring. Leaning on the contraption from earlier (transforming from a wheelchair to a sturdy crutch), she made her way to the main terminal, her mind abuzz as she tried to understand everything Vega was able to tell her.

The Slayer, Flynn Taggart, being discovered within a mysterious sarcophagus on a planet known as 'Mars'. His release by a man-turned-mech named Dr. Hayden after a corrupted employee - Olivia - opened the portal to Hell. How the legendary Slayer single-handedly took to eliminating Hell's forces once again. His retrieval of 'the demonic crucible' and how the doctor stole it from him before blasting him to who-knows-where. The sudden coming of the Hell Priests and the Kahn Makyr to harvest the souls of mankind's 'non-believers'. The remaining 40% of the planet, Earth, and its leaders coming together to establish the ARC. Dr. Hayden's defeat, the Slayers return - everything; it was all so much to process.

"All of that in the last _ten_ years..?"  
  


Vega took notice of the stress on the woman's face as she tried to wrap her mind around the endless theories and hypotheticals of what could have possibly transpired in the last nine centuries; such a vast history had yet to be uncovered, a history she had somehow managed to sleep through.

Vega nudged her gently with the machine she leaned on. It began to vibrate very subtly, sending some comforting 'shocks' through her body and she smiled at the wall again, grateful. Entering the main terminal, Rahab's heart fluttered as she recognized the surrounding architecture. 

  
  
A plethora of pillars and ancient-looking technology decorated the walls. Mesmerizing blue flames and florescent blue beams - Argenta, a taste of home - and the adjacent planet gave the room its light.

An incredible view of this planet, Earth, surrounded by a blanket of stars and nebulae was presented by the enormous window at the front of the room. Rahab's lips parted slightly, both in awe and horror.

The planet would have looked so similar to Argent D'nur - beautiful in all its natural blue glory - if it weren't for the invasion. What was once lush green grass and forest was now an ashy wasteland, riddled with death and decay. A colossal, fiery pentagram tore through its soil, branding the planet like cattle. Rahab clutched her chest tightly, the burning sensation she felt moving her to tears.

"That's Earth?" She asked, her face downcast.

"Yes."

She could barely hear her own voice as she croaked, "The priests. The Kahn Makyr. They... They did all of this?"

Her stomach churned, her eyes welled up.   
She could hear the hymns her beloved people would sing in reverence to these clergy - these entities - entrusting every ounce of their being to them.

  
  
 _"And for what?_ " She thought. _"For this..?"_  
Lost in thought, she took another small step forward and her foot kicked at something, sending it across the floor a little bit. She grunted, looking down to see what looked like the torso of some sort of mech.

"Rahab," Vega beckoned. "This is Dr. Samuel Hayden. I am hoping to restore him to full health upon the Slayer's return... But he is taking longer than I had anticipated. His foe is formidable."

A look of worry grew on Rahab's face. _"So he's fighting, then."_  
She tilted her head, pondering what was the husk before her.

"It's only a torso with a single arm and a head."

"According to ARC reports, he was damaged during a failed anti-Hell operation that he led. He is not dead, however, his life signal is barely readable."

"Is he dying?"

"Essentially. His main cortex is likely to fail if he is not connected to a suitable power source soon."

At this, Rahab reached a hand out for the torso, desperate, before coming to a sudden halt.

_"He's important, but... He's betrayed Flynn to get what he wanted before. How do we know we can trust him?"_

Her brows furrowed as she took one more glance toward the burning surface of Earth, that wretched pentagram threatening to implant itself into her mind.

Involuntarily, her hand came up to the right side of her face, feeling at the texture of her scarred skin, the fabric of her eye patch, one of the horns projecting out of her temples.  
Images of her suffering hared through her mind, and the feeling of heartburn returned.

60 percent of this planet's population was gone. Consumed, devoured - torn apart like she was... She may have survived, but not on her own accord. She learned the hard way that no amount of willpower would be enough to save her from the claws that had began to skin her alive. 

Someone had to save her.

 _He_ saved her.  
"Now," He said, lifting her tear stained, blood-soaked face His warm hands. "Pay it forward." He disappeared without a trace after that; He - whatever or whoever He was - was the last thing she saw before the UAC supposedly got to her.

_"I want to pay it forward."_ She looked at Hayden's body.   
_"It's been ten years. Maybe he's not the same person he was back then."_  
A certain look washed over her face, and one of her fists clenched, trembling a bit.

_"But if he is, I... I'll kill him."_

A sliver of light penetrated the patch over her eye as she suddenly separated herself from the contraption that helped her walk. Though she stumbled she got to the body quickly, picking it up by its remaining arm. It was slightly bigger than her - heavier too - what with it being nearly half of what was left of a ten foot body. 

"What you were gonna use to revive him... Is it nearby? I can take him there." She said, clearly struggling.

"Rahab-"

"Vega, please. I'm sure Fly's on his way but I wanna help! If everything you've told me about this man is true then... this planet - those people, they can't wait any longer for him to give us some answers!"

If a reluctant tone were possible for Vega to pull off, then that was most certainly the tone he was going for.  
  
"You are only a few steps away from the power pod. With this I will be able to provide him with the energy necessary to keep him alive, but you will need to lift him up rather high in order to get him onto the platform. You must also be aware that even in this condition he is still approximately 61 kilograms or 135 pounds."

Rahab took another look at the almost-lifeless mechanical body, taking a deep breath before nodding.   
  
"Yes sir."  
Looking over her shoulder she saw what Vega was talking about. She walked backwards, dragging the cyborg's body, each tug bringing her closer and closer to her destination. Vega powered on the platform, and Rahab could feel the radiation from the extraterrestrial white beam that now surged through it.

Her back eventually touched the platform and she looked up, barely able to see the top of it; it _was_ pretty high up.

Her face scrunched up as her body trembled, trying to lift the incredible weight over her head, to no avail. Her pants for breath would have left Vega worried if he were capable of such a complex emotion.   
  
Another tug, still not much was done.  
  
Suddenly, the light behind her eye-patch pierced through the fabric, and before Vega could protest the woman miraculously lifted the piece of machinery up off the ground and just barely managed to get it onto the platform. The white beam did the rest of the work, snatching the doctor from her grasp and making her stumble forward a bit.

How Vega wished he had a head to tilt and eyes to express his surprise.

Rahab looked up curiously as small bursts of electricity popped out here and there from what was left of Dr. Hayden, levitated by the white beam.

The lights in the room flickered a bit, and the woman took to crawling back to her crutch.

"Dr. Hayden is transferring himself to the ship's mainframe. The architecture is similar to his own," he said as he brought the crutch over.

  
 _"Similar..? How? This ship is Argenta."  
_ Rahab got back up onto her feet, slowly. 

Vega tried to continue speaking but was promptly cut off. Static-like crackles and a few deep echoes were what emanated from the walls now, and Rahab took a couple of steps back as the glow behind her eye-patch quickly faded. She found herself falling to her knees again as the ship rumbled a bit, causing the thickness of her hair to come forward, hiding her horns.

"Vega? You still there?" She said, gently tucking some of the strands behind her ear.

The only reply she earned was what sounded like another voice, attempting to answer her itself. The lights continued to flicker for a moment before that voice - most definitely not Vega's - became both loud and clear; she was enamored by its deep, robotic, scarily mesmerizing tone.

"Hello, young lady."

Rahab keeked nervously at the surrounding walls.

"H-Hello. You must be Dr. Samuel Hayden. Vega told me about you."

"I am. And what might your name be?"

Rahab hesitated for a moment.

"...My name is Rahab."

Samuel let out a small chuckle.   
"Rahab. A biblical name, though a rather... odd one. Nevertheless, it's a pleasure."

_"Biblical?"_ Rahab wanted to retort but was cut off abruptly.

"Vega," the doctor started, as if he were lecturing a child. "I know it's been a few years since I last heard of you and Taggart but, tell me, why is there an injured woman here?"

The AI and the man tried to converse before Rahab came to stand at attention.  
"With all do respect, doctor, I'm not so sure you're in a position to ask."

Everything fell silent as if both the AI and the former UAC head had paused to look at her.

"While the Slayer was off preparing to ward off Hell's armies, you led that same army back to your planet. Now look at it... Look at how much of the population has been slaughtered because of you-"

"Because of _my employees,_ you mean." The doctor interrupted.

"Yes, it is true that 60 percent of our planet has been consumed... But know that we were in the middle of an energy crisis when we discovered what we refer to as 'Argent Energy.'"  
  
  
 _"'Argent' energy?"_ Rahab wondered.

  
  
"It just so happenedto originate in Hell." Samuel continued. " _My_ primary goal was the preservation of Earth's resources. My employees, on the other hand... They took things too far, despite the board's warnings. That was not on me. The Priests and the Kahn Makyr eventually followed the traces of hellish energy that the legion before left here and indoctrinated more people. _That_ was when it all fell to chaos, young lady."

Rahab scoffed.  
"But it could have all been prevented or at least held at bay if you hadn't taken the crucible or sent the Slayer to... who-knows-where! He could have protected the people you lost!"

Rahab wasn't expecting to get an amused chuckle as a response, but she eventually snuffed out the condescension.

"Mmm, you have faith in him - a sense of devotion."

Rahab didn't realize how much she'd let on, nor that her expressive gestures exposed the scarred, reddened skin of the right side of her face. 

"I'm guessing that you and the Slayer have some... history. I'm also going to assume that you aren't from around here. You referred to Earth as _my_ planet, afterall. So, tell me, miss..."

Rahab's heart stopped and she choked a bit on her own breath as Samuel's voice grew deeper - almost sinister.  
  


"Were you attacked? I take it you were. No animal or human could have given you those scars."

At this, the woman turned so the right side of her body was no longer visible. Her eyes flicked from side to side, uncomfortable by the fact he could probably see her from every angle anyway.  
  
  


"If I may hypothesize: the Slayer came across your planet in the decade that he was gone and saved you and your people from the Challenged, hmm? It's obvious that you've had an encounter with him that was closer than most - that you admire him, otherwise you wouldn't be here, now would you?"

While his hypotheses weren't entirely correct, Rahab remained frozen, in shock at how attentive this man was. He was cunning and, given his tone, somewhat (if not completely) unfeeling; a dangerous combination. Unsure how to respond, she stayed quiet, and the doctor chuckled once more. 

"I certainly don't blame you for staying by his side... You seem strong willed enough. Many of my ARC colleagues and subordinates have a similar enthusiasm for him. He and I certainly have our... differences. I don't care for his barbaric 'kill them all' attitude... but I digress. He's a pretty obnoxious beacon of hope. But, a beacon nonetheless, I suppose."

Rahab took a breath to speak once more until what appeared to be a blue aura began to appear between her and the platform the doctor was perched in, startling her to the point of backing away immediately. 

  
  
Vega moved the crutch once again to help her stand up. She gave it a good couple of pats as thanks.  
A portal materialized before her, it's blue hue all the more mesmerizing to her eyes than the surrounding blue flames were. 

  
  
Out from the portal stepped the Slayer.

  
  
"Fly!" Rahab cried, completely forgetting that Dr. Hayden was now conscious.   
  


_"Fly?"_ He wondered. _"Hm... That familiar, eh?"  
_

Rahab's stomach churned and her eyes widened as they cruised Flynn's frame.   
His suit was cracked in some places, dented in others and absolutely covered in what appeared to be purple blood, as well as bits of mushed up brains and violet viscera that slid off and splattered onto the floor. Additionally, a massive tear that stretched all the way across his chest had blood sloshing out of it. It streamed down, spilling and making a mess along with the purple bits and pieces of flesh sliding down with it. She took notice of his strained breaths.

"B-Blessed," he said suddenly, though weakly. "G-Gone to... waste..."

"What?" Rahab asked, slowly stretching her arms out toward him as she took a small step forward.

  
  
His blood-shot eyes barely met hers through his visor.  
"R..Rakab," he strained before collapsing, his body hitting the floor hard enough to make a dent.  
His blood began to pool under him.

"No, no, no!" Rahab sobbed, rushing over to what she was afraid would only be the body of her husband. Her legs gave out for the umpteenth time and she fell next to him, on her knees, panicked breaths heaving from her lungs.

  
  
Vega wasn't kidding when he said his foe was formidable.

She slowly began to turn the Slayer over onto his back, much to the surprise of Dr. Hayden.  
 _"He's at least a good 180 pounds - if not 200..."_

 _  
  
_Realization hit him.

  
  
 _"Taggart wasn't here before. She's the one who got me onto the platform... How, though?"_  
He observed, closely, noticing something that looked like a glow coming from behind the fabric of her eyepatch. "Blessed. Gone to waste," began to echo through his mind, curiously.

_"Hmm..."_

"Vega?! Get him something, please!"

"The medical supplies are on their way!" The AI replied, clearly trying to muster a comforting tone.

Rahab removed Flynn's helmet promptly, and she let out some shaky, concerned breaths at the look on his face.  
  
Absolutely no peace - no rest to be seen.  
  


 _"What happened? What did he see?!"_ She asked herself, staring in horror at the gaping wound The way the blood bubbled and pooled its way out from the depths of the singed, blackened and peeling flesh and metal made her want to vomit. Without hesitation she stripped off her garment, leaving herself in nothing but a braless undershirt and short-shorts that exposed much of the rest of her reddened and scarred body.   
  
  
Samuel's attention was most definitely fixated now.

  
  
Pressing the garment hard against Flynn's chest to stop the bleeding had no effect as the entire thing became painted in crimson, reeked of iron, and grew damp - spilling over like a soaked rag being ringed.  
  


 _"Oh Fly..."_ She thought, one of her hands shaking as she brought it over and pressed her fingers against the crook of his neck, making sure that slow but sure pulse wouldn't stop.  
  


The aforementioned medical supplies came levitating into the room, and she worked hard as an extra pair of hands to get Flynn out of his suit and help Vega treat the mortal wound.  
  


Dr. Hayden raised a hypothetical brow as he watched the woman begin to undress the Slayer and get to work patching him up. Some sudden tugs to pry the armour off of Flynn's body caused Rahab to cock back, her hair moving out of the way, promptly exposing one of her horns.

  
  
 _"... Interesting,"_ he thought raising a hypothetical brow, suspiciously unphased.

  
  
Unnervingly calm. 


	7. The Ally (Part 2)

The darkness behind Flynn's eyelids peeled back as he ever so slowly began to regain consciousness, his mind still buzzing with the words, "blessed. Gone to waste."

  
Shifting his weight, his body flinched involuntarily at the way the wound on his chest burned.  
Both the pain and the hard smack of his head against something metallic woke him up, and he groaned as he rubbed the newly forming bump uncomfortably.   
His eyes focussed on what appeared to be a tray full of medical tools, rags and other pieces of fabric covered in blood.

  
  
"What-?" He stammered. Looking down he saw the thick layer of bandages on his chest. Some stitches peeked out from underneath them, and another jolt of pain made his fist clench, clasping at the blankets that covered his legs. He remembered everything that happened up until it had all gone black.

  
  
Altair. Their battle. His final words.  
All the things he said about the priests, the Makyrs. Argent D'nur.

Blessed. Gone to waste.  
Rahab...  
Rahab.

He'd almost forgotten.

  
  
_"Shit, where is she?"_ He thought, his vision clearing almost instantly. He scanned the surrounding room, realizing where he was the more he came to: the main terminal, somewhere on the floor, likely unmoved by Vega so his body wouldn't endure greater damage.

He took a breath, preparing to ask the artificial intellgience where his wife was before doing a double-take, fixing his eyes on her frame sitting at the front of the terminal, staring wonderously - though sadly - at the Earth.

"Rahab?"

The woman hugged herself as she turned around, looking at Flynn with pity and relief in her eyes.

"He's up..!"  
Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she'd been sobbing, and she began to make her way over to him, leaning on the crutch Vega provided.

"Good morning, sir." he greeted; Rahab followed suit, the softness of her voice a soothing balm to the stab in Flynn's chest.   
"How are you feeling?"

Flynn took a glance at his chest again before putting a hand on his neck, massaging his stiffness away and wincing at the pain from his injury.

  
  
"Fairly okay, considering." He took some small glances over his shoulder, seeing now what he had hit his head against when he woke up: a metal pillar of some sort, surging with energy. Looking up he saw the doctor's body, floating in the white aura - spitting and sputtering bits of static here and there.

  
  
His nose crinkled, his brow furrowed, confusion and disappointment in his eyes.

  
  
_"Ugh, he's here too... How the heck did she get him up there?"  
_  
"It's good to see you too, Taggart." Samuel mocked.  
Flynn developed the urge to get up and give him a good punch before Rahab made it to the top of the stairs, catching his eye. She inched her way over.

"You look exhausted. Are you hungry?" She asked.

Hearing that question from a genuine, human voice made Flynn's chest hurt in the best way. He nearly said yes, what with his first instinct to refuel and get back to action... But his sights were now set on the bandages wrapped around the woman's wrists and legs. Though she didn't seem to notice or mind that she was clearly limping, he certainly did.

"I am hungry, yeah... Let Vega get it though."

  
  
He raised a hand, waving it to summon the AI.

  
  
"Yes sir. One moment."  
  


"Oh! Alright then!" Rahab said, almost too cheerily. She turned to make her way back to the base of the terminal.

The man threw her a look of perplexity.

"Where are you going?"

The woman froze mid-step.  
"Oh, I'm just... Goin' back down to look at Earth!"

Flynn's shoulders drooped and he tilted his head, a displeased look on his face.   
"You can see the earth just fine from here."

Rahab sank into herself a bit, trying to hide her face like a child. She knew that wasn't what he meant when he asked.

"C'mere."

"What?" Rahab replied, timidly.

"I said, c'mere, Rahab."  
Straight to the point. Classic Flynn.

  
  
"Is that _any_ way to talk to a woman, Taggart?" Samuel asked.  
Flynn banged his fist against the power pod a couple of times, nearly making a dent.   
"Shut up, Hayden!"

  
  
He looked toward Rahab again, sincerity in his eyes.   
"Let's talk."

Rahab scoffed a bit, uncomfortable.   
It'd been so long... Too long. She was fed all this new information fast - too fast. She didn't know if her brain or her heart could handle any more; nor was she sure how much she was willing to let on with a complete stranger in their midst - a stranger she most certainly hadn't grown to like. She nearly stared daggers at what was left of the cyborg.

Flynn could see her weariness. A whole 950 years apart felt like mere hours between waking up from stasis and being put back to sleep or sent away, but it wasn't. At least he had a good decade to gather his thoughts. She only had a single, measly day.

The tone in his voice still solid - but gentler, he said, "Vi'apa, then." 

_"Vi'apa?"_ Hayden thought to himself, intrigued.

  
  
Rahab threw a small glance in his direction, her face unsure - almost defensive - until she really processed what he'd said.

_Vi'apa._ A contraction between _vien_ and _apa. Vien_ meaning to come or to move forward; _apa_ meaning to be steady or gradual - to take one's time.

The look on her face grew soft.  
She teetered her way toward him, allowing herself to really feel the weakness in her legs since she'd woken up. Her shakiness inspired the man to stand to his feet. At this she gasped, her eyes full of concern.

"Fly, no!" She cried. "You need to rest! Stay there. Let me come to you!"

The Slayer continued making his way, saying nothing in return. His chest did hurt like hell, but he hid it well once he started walking.

"Fly!" Rahab yelled again trying to tune into the role of a doting wife. She started walking faster than her body cared for her to. Her knees buckled and she fell away from her crutch, falling forward into a pair of hefty arms, riddled with scars and bulging veins. The slight stretch Flynn had to make to catch her significantly shorter frame hurt his chest. He winced again, a deep blench escaping his clenched teeth.

"Are you okay?!" Rahab asked, frantic. "I didn't reopen the wound, did I-?!" 

"Rakab," the Slayer interrupted, his voice soft, quiet - familiar, though certainly not to Dr. Hayden.

  
Looking up, Rahab's eyes threatened to leak more tears; it was a miracle she wasn't dehydrated.  
Though his face remained stoic, a slight touch of pity appeared in Flynn's eyes, and it didn't take long for the urge to pick her up to get its way. He knew he'd hear a mouth full of it from Hayden later, but he couldn't care less, swiftly sweeping Rahab off her feet and holding her close.Though it stung something awful to have weight pressed upon his wound, he silently basked in the feeling of Rahab's arms wrapping around his neck, her legs around his waist, and her fingers combing through his hair. He closed his eyes, focusing intently at her warm breath as she hid her face in the crook of his neck, resisting the urge to toy with the lengthy coils of her hair so as not to have to let her go. 

Rahab's heart burst at the feeling of him adjusting so he wouldn't drop her, his actions emanating something she had dearly missed: a love that was patient and kind; a love that alwaysprotects, trusts and hopes.

The Slayer turned to travel around the pod that held the doctor, throwing a dirty look his way before going through a door that led elsewhere. Vega simply had the necessary medical supplies and food he required follow him on his way out.

Not much time passed before the man made it to his own room, to his own bed, laying Rahab down upon it, gently.   
  


A hot, red blush emerged onto her face and she tried to hide it as she whimpered, flustered as Flynn climbed on top of her. He moved some of her hair out of the way of her face, even stroking gently (though hesitantly) at one of her horns. Rahab trembled at the feeling, an overwhelming feeling of shame tempting her to hide that piece of her cursed crown behind the thickness of her hair again.

Flynn cupped her cheek with one hand, motioning her head so he could look at her face, and he stroked at her tender lips with his thumb.

The blush on Rahab's face grew deeper, ever deeper, as he leaned in. She could hear every one of his soft but husky breaths, and shivered with excitement at the feeling of those breaths against her face, warm and welcoming. It tickled a bit the moment their lips touched, and she could feel the faintest rush of adrenaline run through her veins as her heart throbbed. Flynn gave her a few short, supple kisses at first - getting used to the feeling himself. He grasped at the sheets, uncertain but willing to figure things out.   
He didn't realize just how much his mind and body missed this type of closeness with another person. To experience it again, with his own wife... He could hardly believe it.  
He couldn't waste another moment.  
  
He'd make her his again.

  
  
The kissing grew passionate, slow, and gentle all at once.   
His chapped and scarred lips bruised hers, beginning to grow softer and softer with every sweet caress. His hips began to grind up against her as she wrapped her arms around him and scratched at his back. Weak as her body was, she was desperate to be close to him as well, to let him take control and tell her with his hands that he would never leave her.

  
  
The passion between them grew a bit too strong for Flynn's mortally injured body to handle, and a sudden surge of pain from his chest made him open his eyes and pull away.

"Agh!" He wailed, hugging himself to apply pressure to the throbbing wound.   
_"Dammit. You got me good, Altair..."_ he thought, trying to grab at a syringe nearby so he could inject himself with some morphine.

Unable to reach it, he strained himself a bit, wincing for the umpteenth time before he saw Rahab sit up and lean over to grab the syringe herself.

"Don't," he demanded, his agitation and worry making him sound harsh.

She froze before a sweet smile stretched onto her face, assurance in her twinkling eyes.   
"Don't worry - I won't hurt myself. Lay down."

  
  
This time it was Flynn's turn to have his heart burst.

He hadn't seen her smile - _a_ smile - until now (unless it was sinister, of course). He hadn't heard the sound of a voice - _her_ voice - perky yet gentle, freed from the clutches of anxiety and fear, since his days in Argent D'nur - his younger years. It moved him nearly to the point of discomfort.  
Digressing, he laid down next to Rahab and she administered the medication carefully into that one vein protruding from his inner arm.

A couple of Vega's tiny contraptions hovered around him to check his vitals.  
They were like flies. Flynn could never get used to how pesky they were, and it took everything in him not to swat at them. The disguted grimace on his face as they flew around him made Rahab giggle, and his heart stopped to a point where Vega nearly had to elicit a shock. 

Her laugh...  
The first laugh he'd heard in centuries, and goodness did it ever have such a satisfying sweetness to it, like that of daisies.

  
  
Daises...  
Daisy. 

  
  
That sweet little rabbit that started it all.  
 _"You're entering dangerous territory goin' into the military in this day and age, kiddo,"_ he remembered the note saying the day he found her in a box on the kitchen table. He was only in his 20s at the time. _"That's why I got Daisy for ya! She'll make sure you don't lose your head."  
_ The note was signed _Your Old-old man,_ with ' _Commander Keen'_ officially signed under that; his grandfather.

  
  
He saw Daisy, bouncing around, ears perking up and nose twitching without a care in the world in the fields of his home town.  
The sight of vast mountain ranges with blue skies, lush green grass and fresh air made his eyes glisten, and the sound of laughing and conversing - peace - gave him the space to breathe for once. He was home.  
  
But it was not to last...  
It was all interrupted by otherworldly screams and cries of terror. A reddened sky, pools of blood being soaked up by the earth's soil like a sponge; the sight of Daisy's head on a pike, the only remnant of innocence at that point in his life, shredded like it was nothing, taking her place among the millions who died at the hands of Hell...  
The lives he could have saved.

  
Flynn's fist hit the mattress and he covered his face, a sharp huff escaping his nostrils.

Rahab flinched, a quick head tilt and disquieted look her only response for a moment.   
She could hear his breathing grow shaky - unstable, and she didn't spare a moment to safely dispose of the syringe and crawl her way over to him.

  
  
He didn't move, keeping his hands on his face as he felt the slightest shift in the beds' weight, Rahab laying down next to him. She reached out like a mother preparing to pick up her newborn and carefully held the back of Flynn's head, shuffling a little closer and bringing him over to rest upon her torso somewhere.

The images of peace and chaos hurtled one after the other; his head felt like it would rupture at any moment. It took everything in him not to scream, and he could feel a knot develop in his throat.

  
  
Without warning, he removed his hands from his face, wrapping his arms around Rahab's tiny waist and pulling her in, his desperation making him have little regard for how gentle he was or wasn't being. She didn't mind. A faint blush made its way to her face instead as he clung to her desperately, hiding his face in between her breasts, taking in her scent, her warmth - everything.  
  
He gripped the fabric of her undershirt tightly.  
  
She combed his hair with her fingers once again, pressing her lips against his forehead, kissing him softly, basking in the feeling of being protected and being the protector at the same time.  
  
A long overdue sleep overtook the great Slayer, now curled up like a nursing infant. As he drifted off, his wife followed suit; both in pain but both still, at long last. They laid there together, taking eachother in...  
Finally.

  
The doctor, meanwhile, took to practicing his most dangerous skill: pondering. He'd bring a hand up to his chin if he could move his body, cunningly trying to put all the pieces together.

_"Well, this is all a bit surreal,"_ he thought to himself.  
Though he could state the obvious when it came to their relationship, he still had yet to figure out where and how history brought the Slayer and Rahab together - both now and before.

  
  
The horns protruding from Rahab's head led to his ever growing curiosity about the rest of her body. The redness, the scarring; that eyepatch. The glow.

  
_  
"She wasn't just 'attacked' like I thought she was."_

The language Flynn spoke.  
 _"She understood it. Hmm..."_ His processing caused some of the lights in the ship to flicker. 

  
He thought about the whole _"blessed. Gone to waste,"_ mantra coming out of his rivals mouth.  
Where could he begin to crack this whole code he found himself involved in, now that he'd been reawakened?   
It took some time, but a quick glance at the very architecture that made up his body - this ship - was enough to make him wish he could muster a smirk.

  
  
"Argent D'nur," he muttered. "Vega," he called. "Search the codex for any and all information submitted back in 2153. I need something."

"Is it for the sake of our mission, Dr. Hayden?"

  
  
Samuel would shrug if he could.   
"You could say that."

  
  
"One moment." Vega began pending the information he was requested to find.  
It didn't take long for the doctor to recieve the information he wanted.

  
  
Hours of reading and digging passed by before he came to a halt.  
"Interesting." He said to himself, quietly, a chuckle following afterwards. 

  
  
His voice grew sinister.

  
"Very, very interesting..."  
  



	8. Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update and notif about where I've been and if I'm gonna keep writing the story!

Hello everybody!  
I know the story hasn't been updated for a while, and that's primarily due to school.   
I'm in my final year at uni and will be graduating this year so I'm really working with my nose to the grind stone.  
On top of that, I also got into a new relationship so - as y'all know - that requires a certain amount of effort all on its own.  
  
That said, I have every intention to continue writing The Sarcophagus and to complete eventually, so stick around!   
I can't thank everyone enough for the sweet comments and enthusiasm for the fic,   
and I just wanted to reassure you guys that I'm not gonna be that author who disappears off the face of the earth and leaves the story unfinished for years on end lol  
  


Until next time, y'all!  
Stay tuned! :) Be safe out there, and may God bless you!

\- Thorn 


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